


Fear & Delight

by DesdemonaKaylose



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Gon Freecs, And Now For Something Completely Different, Bottom Hisoka (Hunter X Hunter), Light Masochism, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesdemonaKaylose/pseuds/DesdemonaKaylose
Summary: The nen that Hisoka was caught in the grip of was called Season of Heat, and nothing about it resembled a real animal’s heat cycle in the slightest as far as Gon could tell. The over-bright eyes, the burning flesh, the restless urgency; it looked more like a fever to his eye, albeit one that had its own starving, driving will.Gon can never resist trouble, especially not when it's begging him to come closer.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Hisoka
Comments: 43
Kudos: 241





	Fear & Delight

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Страх и упоение](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29921859) by [GanbareGanbare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GanbareGanbare/pseuds/GanbareGanbare)



> Thought about this in the middle of writing my other thing and was _immediately_ possessed by the concept. Sorry. I don't know either. Gon is older here but the timeline is nebulously anime aligned.  
> Title from [this extremely relevant song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ABS-mlep5rY).

In the wilderness—and in the village too—Gon had seen animals in heat. It wasn’t particularly remarkable, or particularly pretty; there was just a lot of sniffing and sometimes yowling and then it was over, and you had another litter of kittens to find homes for. It wasn’t anything romantic. As far as he could tell, humans were the first animals to ever invent romance.

The nen that Hisoka was caught in the grip of was called _Season of Heat,_ and nothing about it resembled a real animal’s heat cycle in the slightest as far as he could tell.

The over-bright eyes, the burning flesh, the restless urgency, the listless submission; it looked more like a fever to Gon’s eye, albeit one that had its own starving, driving will. Hisoka, slyly peering up from the rumpled bedcover, was all disheveled autumn curls and a deadly kind of thing Gon thought _might_ be romance.

A shiver ran up Gon’s spine, setting his hair on end. The low purr of Hisoka’s voice, like foam on the fathomless ocean, black under the moonlight, as he shifted enticingly on the bed—

“Come now,” Hisoka said, “don’t you want to have your way with me?”

They had made it back to Hisoka’s hotel after the odd and unexpected encounter in the backstreets of Zabuzan, both empty handed of their goals. As it so often happened, they were after the same nen practitioner, although for very different purposes. The moment Hisoka’s bungee gum connected with her aura, the whole tenor of the encounter had changed; Gon ended up supporting a dazed Hisoka as he staggered, all at once on the verge of tipping over in the rain-slick street.

Gon had never seen the accomplished fighter so vulnerable, not even bleeding and missing limbs. It was almost mesmerizing. He felt as if he had stumbled across a jar full of something he wasn’t meant to eat, but the smell was too sweet to pull himself away from. He hadn’t thought about whether he should catch Hisoka in his stumble, or whether he ought to take the other hunter home. It hadn’t seemed possible to walk away. All that terrible killing power, that nightmare strength, and it was shivering dizzily over his shoulder clutching him for balance.

 _Ohh,_ Hisoka had said, as he staggered in Gon’s grip, _what a strange—feeling—_

Aunt Mito had told him a story once, about a scorpion and a frog. He’d thought it was sound advice, to always remember an animal’s nature. A scorpion didn’t sting because it hated you, or because it wanted to see you suffer. It was just a scorpion. It couldn’t help the way nature had made it.

Laid out on the rich damask, Hisoka had all the glittering alien beauty of a scorpion poised to sting. His cheek was flat against the bed, but his glittering eye fixed Gon with something that felt like a threat. And then he dropped his lids, letting his wrists fall limp at either side of his head.

“Please,” he moaned, “I need it, Gon, I’m at your mercy. You wouldn’t let me _suffer_ would you?”

“I don’t think I should…” Gon said. The hotel room was dim and smelled of cinnamon—like Hisoka—the lamp on the far desk bleeding its half-light over red curtains. He didn’t doubt that every word out of Hisoka’s mouth was a deliberate, calculated seduction. But he looked so pretty down there—he smelled so pretty—

“Just think of all the things you can do to me,” Hisoka coaxed, “all the ways you can break me…”

Hisoka let his thighs fall open, the loose fabric of his harem pants stretching in soft lines. His hardness was just barely visible against his hip, the head of it pressing up against the cloth.

“You’ve chased my back for so long. Fallen under my heel again and again.” Hisoka licked his lips. “In your secret heart, haven’t you wondered how it would feel to overpower me at last? To conquer me? _Master_ me? I’m powerless to stop you now, you can have me any way you like me…”

 _Want_ tore through Gon. An animal desire, an impulse—it wasn’t an intelligent thought. His hungry heart launched itself against the cage of his ribs, clawing wildly. He took a step forward without thinking.

“That’s it,” Hisoka said, his pupils flaring and swallowing his irises. “That’s it—come here, you’re such a good boy, come on, come on—”

Gon landed heavily on the hotel bed, knees on either side of the fever-burning body, boots still on and unable to think of anything but burying his face in Hisoka’s sweet swelling neck. The fierce muscles, the rushing jugular beneath the skin, Hisoka’s delicate earring cool against his cheek; Gon bit into the pale flesh. An ecstatic cry tore free from the throat under his teeth.

He nosed into the hot crux of Hisoka’s ear, one hand scrambling blindly until it found the panting mouth and pushed two fingers inside. His fingertips skated over the velvet wetness of Hisoka’s tongue, and the long shameless moan he got for his efforts only made him more determined.

 _This might actually kill me_ , Gon thought, as Hisoka licked at the pads of his fingers. _If the curse doesn’t get me, Hisoka probably will. I know the black widow eats its mate—so why do I only want it more?_

Gon pulled back. Hisoka’s lips were flushed with just the barest edge of pink, shiny where Gon’s fingers rubbed over them. The look on his face—the look was—

Gon had never been looked at like that before. Like he was everything, the sun and the night and the wildfire and the rain, like there was no difference between a kiss and a killing blow from him. His breath caught in his chest. The thought struck him, again, that this was something he wasn’t meant to see. That Hisoka, who prided himself in being the strongest, who was fiercely independent, who dressed himself in lies like the truth was anathema to him, was not now a version of himself that he would have chosen to bare to anyone.

And yet.

There’s a certain intimacy between killer and victim, Gon remembered him saying once. Was the reason Hisoka chased after that fatal, fleeting moment of intimacy something to do with this fear, with this fragile, feral truth?

“Shh,” Gon said, and stroked the side of Hisoka’s cheek with his thumb, fingers still buried in the warmth of his mouth.

Hisoka’s eyelids fluttered.

He looked so good down there, palms open, mouth full. Gon probably could have watched him all night and never gotten tired, finger fucking his mouth until his perfect elegance was reduced to needy mess, except that Hisoka was arching his hips desperately, urging him for more. 

Gon pulled back. It wasn’t very hard to coax Hisoka’s pants off his hips, not with Hisoka more than willing to assist. Feeling almost as if he was about to touch the flesh of something mystic and terrible, Gon pushed open a powerful white thigh and smoothed his hand along the inside. The muscles jumped and flexed where he touched them.

Gon had seen Hisoka naked before, on Greed Island, years ago. It occurred to him now that he’d always found Hisoka more compelling with his clothes on than naked. This was good, though—this half dressed dishevelment, stockings and heels and shirt pushed up his stomach, cock swollen and rosy against his hip.

 _Big,_ Gon thought, not for the first time. He pulled his hand free.

“You want me to touch that?” Gon asked, because as far as he’d gotten on instinct so far, he didn’t _actually_ know what it was that Hisoka needed. The nen user hadn’t stuck around to explain the mechanics of her hatsu to them.

Some of the keenness flared back into Hisoka’s darkened eyes. He flicked a loose lock of hair off his forehead with a listless wrist. “I wouldn’t say _no,”_ he purred, his voice as hot and sweet as spiced cider, “but I’d rather you just _give_ it to me.”

Arousal gripped Gon’s belly, as if Hisoka had punched those formidable nails straight into his guts. “I don’t know how,” he managed. “Do you need to be—stretched, or something? Don’t I need condoms?”

Hisoka wriggled impatiently, a hand straying down to palm his cock. “I want you,” he said, “I want you _now._ You can come inside me, I want you to come inside me—Gon, you’re so beautiful, delicious, I want you, I _want_ you.”

Gon bit his own lip until the skin popped. “I don’t want to hurt you. This is a bad way to hurt someone.”

 _“Please_ hurt me,” Hisoka said, “darling—darling boy—ruin me, _ravage_ me.”

“I,” Gon said, “I shouldn’t—”

Hisoka reached for him, but Gon caught the quick strike of his hand in mid air. For a minute they just stared at each other, and then Hisoka subsided with a mournful sigh. “It’s easier when you’re experienced,” he said, letting his head fall to the side. “I’m very experienced. I know how to take you. Go carefully or don’t, I’ll manage either way.”

Gon reached down and stroked Hisoka’s cock with his thumb, as a kind of apology. The shock of the touch startled Hisoka so much that he kicked reflexively with his sharp black heel. Gon caught his ankle too and, after a moment of thought, hooked it over his own shoulder.

It was true, Hisoka’s body took him obediently when Gon pressed. Only the ragged panting and slack mouth betrayed the intensity of what Hisoka was feeling as Gon’s cock forced him open. The smell of cinnamon was thicker now in the air, supernaturally oppressive, and a red flush had bloomed under Hisoka’s collar. The soft heat of his body clutched Gon desperately.

Gon’s jaw clenched. Some things could feel so good it _hurt,_ he knew that, but he’d never felt it like this. He thought it probably wouldn’t feel as good if he couldn’t hear Hisoka’s moans of _yes! yes!_ beneath him, feel the sharp pinpricks of nails digging into his back. The goodness flared hot in him with every little inch deeper.

“You’re so loud,” Gon murmured. He was smaller than Hisoka, still, and he fit between the hunter’s legs like Hisoka was designed to hold him.

Hisoka arched his neck. “I—enjoy _everything—_ the most I _possibly_ can—while I have it.”

 _Was_ he enjoying it? His pupils were blown wild and black—his hardness must have been excruciating—he couldn’t seem to let go of Gon’s biceps.

Gon bottomed out, sweating and almost sick with pleasure, his face buried again in Hisoka’s neck. His body felt like it only ever felt at the highest point in a fight—when he was terrified for his life, but when success tasted sweetest—

He gave an exploratory little shift of his hips. “Okay,” he panted. “Okay. I guess that’s the hard part out of the way.”

“Go on,” Hisoka said, urging at him with nails and heels. The weight of his calves over Gon’s shoulders wasn’t much, but he dug the backs of his shoes into Gon as if that would force him to set a pace finally.

Instead of doing that, Gon reached down and traced his fingers over the creamy skin between Hisoka’s thighs, finding the place where Hisoka was split wide open around him. The delicate skin was blazing hot under his fingertips, muscles under the skin contracting wildly as he kneaded it. The fit was so _tight._ Hisoka’s body felt as if it could barely take what he was doing to it.

“Gon,” Hisoka moaned wretchedly, “don’t _tease.”_

Gon pulled his hand back. “Sorry,” he said. “Is this better?”

Hisoka’s head rolled, and he glared at Gon out of one spiteful golden eye.

Gon did a bad job of muffling a laugh. “So you _do_ want me to touch you,” he said, and slid his hand back down, out of sight, stopping to roll Hisoka’s balls a _little_ too tightly until Hisoka made a choking noise low in his throat.

“When you want something, you have to ask nice,” Gon told him. He gave the delicate flesh another harder squeeze, but instead of pushing him off, Hisoka snatched him by the collar and twisted white knuckles in the cotton until the threads creaked.

“Oh,” Gon breathed, “you do like that.”

“You’re being awfully cruel,” Hisoka managed. “I thought you were a _sweet_ boy.”

Gon considered that for a second. “Well… _you’re_ being awfully sweet,” he said, “so I guess I have to be the cruel one for now?”

And then he drew back, until he was almost free, and slammed forward to the hilt. Hisoka’s eyes rolled back in his head. The fabric of Gon’s collar ripped open with a startled _snap._

Pretty pleased with himself, Gon readjusted until Hisoka was just about bent in half, pinned underneath him with knees pushed back to the duvet. Gon shivered to think of what this body could do, what power lay trembling in these legs he was forcing open even now to make room for himself inside.

Hisoka could have fought him off, but he wanted this too bad to even try—instead he was letting Gon pin him down and stuff him full. Either that hatsu was brutal, or he trusted Gon a lot…

“Say please again,” Gon told him.

“Please,” Hisoka gasped, immediately, without hesitation. “Please, _please_ , Gon, my darling-!”

Hisoka had no shame about the little sweet words, not before and certainly not now. Gon had always found Hisoka’s endearments more worrying than anything else, but here, with Hisoka at his mercy, they made him weirdly hot.

The pace he set was rough; each impact jarred them both, bearing Hisoka down into the mattress. The clench of his body dragged at Gon, submitting as Gon thrust into it and squeezing him weakly as he tried to pull away.

“You’re so pretty,” Gon remarked, absently, as Hisoka’s perfectly styled hair started to come apart in curls. A pink flush had crept up over his whole face now, and his lips were flushed even darker.

“Mmn!” Hisoka said, as Gon roughly hilted himself again.

“Do people tell you you’re pretty a lot?” Gon asked. “I feel like they probably don’t. You’re so scary, most of the time. But you’re pretty too—and you wanna be fucked so bad.”

The space between their tightly curled bodies was hot with open mouthed breaths and fast-pumping blood. Now even more than the cinnamon, Gon could smell the arousal on Hisoka—the _creature in heat_ smell, the low and dark smell of ravenous need.

He brought the pace down, moving his hips like an inexorable tide, over and over relentlessly, deep and slow.

“I’d really like to see you this way again,” Gon said, burying his mouth against the blackening bruise he’d left on Hisoka’s throat. “If I could keep you this way, I think I would. I think you’d be happier. If I could just keep filling you up forever, and you wouldn’t have to chase after anyone or anything ever again—you could just be right here, with me, sweet and needy and full of come…”

Close against Hisoka’s skin as he was, he could feel the sudden thud of pulse, smell the jolt of arousal, even as Hisoka let out a raw sound almost like a snarl.

“You really _are_ pretty,” Gon said. “And terrifying. But I think maybe you could also be mine.”

Hisoka made a tight little noise, like a whimper. Gon marveled at it. He’d heard Hisoka make a lot of sounds, but never one quite like that.

“Don’t you think you’d like that?” Gon said. “Being mine?”

“Ngh,” Hisoka barely managed. “ _Gon_ …”

Gon licked the bruised flesh and then bit down over it, holding Hisoka against the bed while he continued the slow unforgiving roll into him. The knees pinned back and apart under his hands twitched, struggled under his weight. He didn’t like the idea of being Hisoka’s toy, but—to have something as wild as Hisoka belong to _him..._ he _did_ like the way that sounded.

When Hisoka finally came, arching and struggling, Gon only pressed their foreheads together for a moment, reveling in the frantic speed of Hisoka’s breaths. Then he rolled Hisoka over onto his stomach, coaxed his ass up, and resumed the ruthless driving pace of before. Hisoka clawed at the red brocade, arching underneath him, incoherent, overstimulated.

Gon thought he understood the name of the hatsu, then. There was something raw and animal, something irresistible, about a victim who usually held himself so cool and controlled now reduced to spread knees and twitching cock. All Hisoka's usual cunning was drowned in the desperate need of it.

“I bet you’ve never had someone take care of you,” Gon mused against Hisoka’s shoulder blade, “not _really._ Well, you’ll need a lot of tending to, but that’s alright. I don’t mind. We can do this as long as you need to.”

The moaning turned wretched, wrung out, but Hisoka stayed hard long after that orgasm and well into another, as midnight swallowed the cinnamon smelling dimness of their hotel room. The hatsu, probably. It had its grip in him, still.

Physically, Gon probably _couldn’t_ do this all night. But there were ways around that, other things he knew how to do—his mind was already going, steps for the two of them blinking into life like the constellation of a battle plan in the back of his head.

“Shh,” Gon told him, and gripped his dribbling cock. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
